Mending Fences
by Lara Zed
Summary: PostHogwarts, not canon to DH. Hermione's surprising encounter with an old acquaintance obligates her to help him. Rated T for now, but rating may change to M later. Chapter seven is finally up!
1. A Reintroduction

Disclaimer: This is J. K. Rowling's world, not mine. There will, however, be a couple of original characters along the way.

A/N: Hi there, this is a fic that actually came to me in my sleep. I know not everyone likes the characters involved, but I hope you will give it a chance. Please read and review, please be kind. This is only the first chapter, more action is to come. I have been re-working the story. If you have read it before, it's a little bit different, a little more detail. I will have new chapters soon, I just wanted to change a few things so it would work better going forward. More chapter updates to follow.

* * *

Chapter One – A Re-introduction

Hermione Granger, aged twenty-four and one of the Daily Prophet's top journalists – and she just loved how that sounds! Harry would joke with her that "by day, she's a mild-mannered reporter working for a major metropolitan newspaper", which would always make them both laugh. Ron never understood why.

When the Second Dark War ended, Hermione returned to Hogwarts to complete her last year of education, after which she got a job as a junior copy editor for the Daily Prophet. Many thought this was a rather strange and even surprising career move for her, as her brains would have made her an excellent candidate for a position at the Ministry or as a Healer Trainee. However, an even more notable reason for the general confusion at her choice to work for the paper was the fact that since Rita Skeeter's influence, the quality of Daily Prophet had degraded from respected newspaper to trashy rag, not unlike the "Weekly Wiz News". Hermione was often asked why she even applied for a job there, let alone accepted one. She would only ever grin in response and say she had big plans for the paper.

She worked hard in her entry-level position, putting in a lot of overtime hours and covering the shifts of anyone who needed it. Harry, Ron and Ginny had to work hard nagging her to get her to come out with them. Hermione would secretly and subtly clean up other writers' articles – to the best of her ability and without getting caught, anyway.

The first big change she was able to make was to the paper's entertainment section. Filled with false, sensationalist hearsay, she used her connection to Harry to help the entertainment writers' gain audience with other celebrities of the wizarding world. While Harry usually preferred to stay out of the spotlight and particularly out of the celebrity circles, Hermione had done so much for him over the years that he could never refuse her anything. The handful of quality, valid interviews that the paper published garnered enough respect for them to continue to make connections without Hermione's aid. Her contribution, however, did not go unnoticed.

The next valuable improvement she made to the Prophet was to its sports section. Weak at best, its reporters wrote as though they had never watched a Quidditch game in their lives. Her help here not only assisted the paper, but ended up bettering someone's life. After ten years in professional Quidditch, working his way up to first-string Keeper for the Montrose Magpies, Oliver Wood suffered a bad injury that permanently damaged his left arm and was forced into early retirement. The sport having been a major part of his life for so many years, he had fallen into a deep depression, until the day Hermione approached him with the suggestion of applying for the job of sports writer with the Prophet. They were very enthusiastic to add a former Quidditch star to their staff, and he was certainly thrilled to still have a connection to the game.

After these contributions, Hermione applied for a journalist position the very instant that one opened up. The editor-in-chief was well aware of her diligent work, as well as her assistance in bringing the Daily Prophet closer to its former glory as a reputable newspaper, and hired her on the spot. In addition to the asset of her natural intelligence, it also turned out she was quite a gifted writer. She was given fairly small assignments at first, but her talent and willingness to be flexible with tasks gave her superiors the faith to give her increasingly important pieces to write. Now, while she was given first pick at articles. Her preference was current and world events. While some of her colleagues resented her quick rise to the top, none could find it in themselves to say that she didn't deserve it.

* * *

Even though it was years after the culmination of the Second Dark War, the Ministry of Magic was once again swaying with the winds of change. Rufus Scrimgeour was set to retire from his post, and campaigning was beginning for other candidates vying for the position of Minister for Magic. Hermione had opted to cover the choice political interviews at this time, which was keeping her rather busy, even more so than usual. Her tactic of having lunch or dinner meetings with politicians in order to contact them for comment tended to work better for the important stories than her fellow writers' phone calls, or rushing them at press conferences. Her department's assistant, Elspeth Hanley, a young, timorous witch with ash blonde hair and bitten fingernails, booked all her meetings for her. 

As writing on the Ministry was still new to Hermione, she was doing her best to become acquainted with it as quickly as possible. Typically, when meeting with a member of the Ministry, she tries to memorize as much information about them as possible – their personal background, their previous experience within the Ministry, their stances on various important issues, everything. However, when called on a last-minute assignment, on occasion she has had to grab a file from Elspeth and run, barely having time to skim the information. From time to time, she has shown up at interviews knowing only the position, not the name, of the person she was about to meet with. Fortunately, she was very talented at "winging it", and had not yet been caught off guard by a single interviewee.

In the midst of political hubbub, Hermione was so engrossed in editing an article that she didn't notice one of the Daily Prophet owls fly into her office and drop a notice on her desk. She wasn't even aware of what it at all until Elspeth stuck her head into her office, and quietly asked, "Um, excuse me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked up, and sighed. "Elspeth, I've told you about a thousand times now to call me Hermione. What can I do for you?"

"Well, Miss… uh… Hermione, i-it's just that it's, um, it's five o'clock, and I'm going home now, a-and, um, you still haven't come to my desk to pick up the file on the guys from the International Magical Office of Law," she shyly stuttered.

Hermione furrowed her brow, and looked back down at her work, scribbling notes in the margins of the parchment on her desk. "I don't remember asking you for a file."

"You d-didn't," Elspeth stammered. "It's for your dinner meeting. Your interview tonight. D-didn't you get the owl?"

Hermione looked back up at Elspeth, now with panic in her eyes. "Oh, no!" She looked around her desk, and grabbed the piece of parchment she hadn't noticed before. She scanned it quickly. "Oh shit!" she exclaimed, letting slip a rare profanity. She jumped out of her seat, grabbing her wand and the file Elspeth was holding out to her. "Thank you Elspeth! The meeting is in an hour, I'd better go now if I want to have time to review their file."

"Oh, before you go…" Elspeth interrupted before Hermione got to the entry fireplace, "Mr. Ashby wanted me to remind you that the dinner is at a really nice place in Muggle London, so to bring the company Muggle credit card. He also said to dress up a bit, wear a skirt or dress rather than your usual hum-drum pantsuit. He said that even though it's a business meeting, keeping it casual will make a bloke more willing to answer the questions, especially when a pretty lass is asking them."

Hermione whipped her head around, and saw that Elspeth was reciting those instructions off a small bit of parchment. She sighed. '_Damn you, Ambrose!'_ she thought to herself. Now she had to stop at home and take time to put extra effort into her appearance. She'd be lucky if she got to glance at the file at all.

This wasn't harassment on her boss's part. Ambrose Ashby's general opinion was that everyone could do a better job when well-dressed for it. He certainly had no specific interest in seeing Hermione in a skirt, for he was "more flaming than a dying phoenix" as he often liked to quip.

* * *

Hermione quickly Flooed home to her apartment. She lived in a two-bedroom flat painted entirely in taupe, and she kept it exceptionally tidy. While she lived on her own, the spare bedroom had come in handy from time to time, doubling as both a home office and a place to drop Harry or Ron (or on one particularly unusual occasion, Ginny) for the nights they get particularly pissed after a raucous night out. Every room in the apartment had at least one bookcase in it, and all her furnishings were done in clean, simple neutrals. 

Rushing to the bedroom, Hermione first tossed her briefcase onto the couch. She yanked her closet doors open and started shuffling through the many, neatly-hung suits inside.

'_Let's see… grey suit, black suit, navy suit, pinstriped suit… Augh! Why must I wear a dress? Do I even own one?'_ she thought angrily, throwing each outfit aside with more vigour than usual. After several minutes of hemming and hawing as to whether Ambrose would consider a cream-coloured blouse to be suitable, she eventually found something appropriate, buried deep at the back of the closet. _'I forgot I had this,'_ she mulled to herself. It was a knee-length black cocktail dress, the least modest dress Ginny could convince her to buy for her and Harry's engagement party six months ago. She pulled off her robes, and slipped the dress on, along with a pair of black ballet flats (as she detested heels). She made a quick run to the bathroom mirror, and grimaced at her reflection, as her hair seemed particularly out of control today.

After trying – unsuccessfully – many styling incantations in order to calm her wild curls down, she finally gave up and added a hair clip to at least keep it out of her face. She barely had time to apply her mascara and lip gloss before dashing back to her living room to grab the files. Ensuring she had her trusty notebook and favourite quill safely tucked into a large but fashionable purse, she disapparated from her apartment, apparating miles away, in Kensington in Muggle London.

* * *

'_Where is this place?' _she thought, trying her best to follow the confusing directions Elspeth had given her. When she finally stumbled upon the building, she checked her watch while on the elevator taking her up to The Tenth. It looked like she'd only be five minutes late. Unfortunately, she hadn't even had an opportunity to open the file yet. _'I'll just have to put the improvisation skills to work.'_

"Good evening, miss," the maitre d' greeted her.

"Good evening. I have a reservation under D.P." Whenever reservations were required for the Daily Prophet in Muggle London, they always placed them under the paper's initials, so as not to invite any questions.

"Ah, yes. Your fellow diners have already arrived. Please, right this way, miss." And he led her through the elegant restaurant to a table by the window overlooking Hyde Park.

A well-dressed man who looked to be in his early thirties was seated, looking out at the spectacular view of London. He turned as the maitre d' pulled out a chair across from him for Hermione, and he stood up to greet her.

"Finley Sheehan," he introduced himself in a thick Irish brogue, and held out his hand, "from the International Magical Office of Law," he added as the maitre d' walked away from the table.

"Hermione Granger, Daily Prophet." She shook his hand. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she continued, sitting down.

Following her lead, Finley sat back in his chair. "The pleasure's all mine. You'll have to excuse my colleague's brief absence; he just stepped out to the toilets before you arrived." He ran his hand across his shaved head, looking over Hermione's shoulder in – presumably – the direction of the toilets, and stood back up. "Ah! Here he is now. Miss Granger, please meet my colleague and friend…"

Hermione stood up and turned, finding herself face to face with –

"Percy Weasley."


	2. An Encounter

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Ms. J. K. Rowling (with the exception of a couple minor characters of my creation).

A/N: Please R&R. I really, really hope you like this chapter. There's a little more action in this one. Now re-written!

* * *

Chapter Two – An Encounter

Hermione was initially taken aback by finding herself face to face with the only Weasley she hadn't seen in nearly eight years. She suddenly realized her mouth was perhaps hanging open a little more than it should be, but she recovered quickly. She continued to hold out her hand, and gave the best toothy smile she could muster.

"Hermione Granger, Daily Prophet. It's nice to meet you," she introduced herself in her no-nonsense, all-business voice. She worried that she sounded a bit strange and flat, but neither man gave any indication of noticing.

"Percy Weasley, International Magical Office of Law. It's nice to meet you, too. I trust you had no trouble finding the place?" he responded, shaking her hand, and giving no intimation if he either recognized or remembered her.

"None at all, thank you," she said as politely as she could, her phoney smile beginning to falter.

They all took their seats, and Finley began examining the wine list.

"I hope you don't mind, but I always prefer to start one of these business dinners with a full glass in my hand," he commented casually.

"No problem at all," Hermione uttered automatically in response. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was going to need one, too.

* * *

"So, what is your perspective on Candidate Archer's proposed changes to the Wizengamot's ruling regarding young offenders?" Hermione asked between sips of her Shiraz.

"Interesting that you ask that," replied Finley, who seemed to be taking the front line to answering Hermione's questions. "Percy and I were discussing this just the other day, weren't we?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, we were," Percy replied. He was somewhat quieter than Hermione remembered him to be, but his partner probably had seniority over him. His manner also seemed less pompous than she recalled, but that too may have just seemed that way in comparison to his colleague.

"Yes," continued Finley. "Since the end of the War, while some of You-Know-Who's supporters still continue to be found and captured, the courts have been just too hard on underage wizards called in on relatively minor offences. While this is somewhat understandable, with many youth having been either on the side of You-Know-Who or put under the Imperius curse, it has been starting to get a bit out of control. Stints in Azkaban for minor dabblings in underage magic? Too harsh, I say! What was it that you said about Scrimgeour the other day, Perce?"

Percy put down his wine glass, looking surprised at being invited to speak. "Oh, yes, well… I had said that Scrimgeour was a fine war-time Minister, but some fresh blood may have a better perspective on the current, post-war situation of our courts."

"May I quote you on that?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"Certainly," he answered, not quite making eye contact.

"Scrimgeour was indeed an excellent Minister during the length of the war," Finley continued, not missing a beat, "A firm hand in a time of crisis! But Percy is absolutely right, the man's perspective is based on the world as it was a few years ago and as we all know, much has changed. Ah! Food's here!" he exclaimed at the sight of their waiter placing his salmon in front of him, and he rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Sorry to cut conversation mid-stream, Miss Granger, but I just can't stomach talking about work while eating. The two things just shouldn't go together, don't you agree?"

"Completely," she answered, even though she didn't. Hermione was very proud of the quality of politeness and tact she was able to keep up throughout some interviews, and this one was no exception. "And please, call me Hermione, Mr. Sheehan," she added, thinking how impressed Ambrose would be with her for, as he said, "keeping it casual" for once.

"Then, please, if we're on a first-name basis, you must call me Finn," he countered with a grin. "And Percy, of course, is just Percy. Right, mate?"

Percy merely offered an accommodating smile at his friend's remark. Finn clearly took this as consent, as he turned back to Hermione, asking, "Shall we tuck in?"

* * *

"Thank you for your time, gentleman," Hermione said outside the restaurant. She shook hands with Percy, then with Finn, who took her hand and kissed it.

"It was our pleasure, I assure you," Finn drawled, not letting go of her hand right away. "You must thank the good people at the Daily Prophet for the wonderful dinner, as well as sending us their loveliest reporter to interview us."

She smiled, and slowly took back her hand. "I will indeed. Have a good night, both of you." And with a small wave, she departed, walking down the street in hopes of quickly finding a quiet place to Disapparate.

"Well, good night, old boy," Finn said to Percy. "In what direction art thou making thy journey for this eve?"

"'Old boy', 'thou', who the bloody hell are you kidding now, Finn?" Percy rolled his eyes at his co-worker. "The girl's gone, and Moira's not here anyway, so can't you drop the bastard act now?"

Finn chuckled, "Right, mate. Sorry, it's just so much fun!" He bounced on his toes a bit, looking very chuffed with himself. "But seriously, where are you off to now? Fancy a pint?"

"Actually," Percy paused. "I think I left my wallet back up in the restaurant. And… then I guess I'm just going to head home. See you in the office tomorrow?"

"Cheers, man. Have a good night then!" Finn casually strolled away, in the opposite direction that Hermione had headed.

Percy watched and waited impatiently for some distance to have come between himself and Finn, and then he sprinted the other way.

Finn turned around to see his co-worker running off.

"Ah," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Cherchez la femme."

* * *

"Hermione! Hermione, please just wait a moment!"

Hermione heard the speeding footsteps, then her name being called from several feet away. She pretended she didn't hear, and sped up. _'I didn't want to get into this! I can't just Disapparate here; there are too many people around. I've just got to hope I can get away, that I'm faster than him, or that he just gives up before he catches up with –'_ Her thought was interrupted when a large hand landed on her shoulder. She spun around, a look of sheer rage already displayed on her face.

"You really have some gall, Percy Weasley!" she said in the loudest voice she could use without attracting attention.

"I know," Percy answered. "I deserve whatever you're going to say to me, please, go right ahead."

"I don't need your permission to 'please, go right ahead'," she mimicked in an unkind, simpering voice. "You have some nerve! Pretending you don't even know me, barely looking me in the eye all night, only to come chasing after me the minute your smarmy little friend's back is turned? You're pathetic, despicable! I have faced Death Eaters by the dozen, but I will not deal with you! Your behaviour to Harry and to your own family has just been completely reprehensible! So why face me? Surely you must know I hate you! What do you want?"

He opened his mouth to answer but she held her hand up, stopping him. She was becoming a fury, a powerful force not to be reckoned with. Her petite, five foot four frame somehow seemed to tower over all six feet two inches of Percy, who was completely dumbstruck and almost cowering faced with the diminutive but livid woman in front of him.

"Don't even tell me what you want. You have no right to want anything, to talk to me, look at me, be around me! When the Death Eaters killed my parents –" tears were springing to her eyes. _'You will not let him see you cry!' _she thought to herself, but it was to no avail – "When the Death Eaters killed my parents, the Weasleys took me in, and tried to be a surrogate family to me! I've never had a brother or sister, suddenly I had _no one_, and they treated me like I was one of their own! Meanwhile, you were lucky enough to be part of a wonderful, big, caring family, who by some miracle somehow _all_ managed to survive the Dark War, and yet you just cut them all from your life as though they were worth nothing, as though they were dirt under your feet! Well, they're worth a lot more than you could ever hope to be, Percy Weasley! You have no right to face me at all! You abandoned them all, when they needed everyone to be together. Your mother still needs you, but let me tell you, nobody else wants you. Do you know Molly doesn't even know for sure if you're alive or dead, because the twins broke your hand off her clock, and Arthur won't talk about you?"

Percy's eyes seemed to darken just slightly at that remark. "I –" he began, but Hermione continued.

"You have no right to follow me! I'm practically a part of that family, too! And Harry's my best friend! When you cut them out of your life, I'm part of the package! I can't even begin to presume what you'd have to say to me! You're nothing but a grovelling, wretched, spineless lackey, who let his completely misguided sense of self-importance rip out the hearts of the people who cared about you. So just sod off home, and live your contented, smug little life. Get out of my face, and enjoy your posh little Ministry job. Go back to your perfect little home, where you can fucking die for all I care! And why are you wasting your time following around someone who hates your guts when I imagine Penelope's waiting for you, wondering when you'll be home –"

"Penelope's not with me any more," he finally gathered the courage to mutter, albeit rather quietly.

"Ha! Really? Good for her! I guess she found herself a brain and walked out on you, I suppose, because she couldn't have had one and stayed with a slimy drip like you. Or was it perhaps that she didn't hobnob with the right members of the Ministry, and you, being the miserable, stuck-up git that you are, told your own girlfriend to go f–"

"Hermione," Percy interrupted, immediately unable to hold his tongue for a minute longer. "Penelope's dead."


	3. A Plea for Help

Disclaimer: Property of J. K. Rowling, who graciously allows us to play with her toys.

A/N: I know this story hasn't gotten anywhere near the traffic of my other story, and I know not everyone likes Percy, but PLEASE give this story a chance... I'm really pleased with it. Please R&R! This is a re-write of the original Chapter Three I wrote...

* * *

Chapter Three – A Plea for Help 

Hermione opened her mouth, then shut it, opened it again, and shut it again. Finally she spoke, but all she could make out was a rather dim-sounding "Uh…"

As Hermione's voice had been getting louder and more shrill as she tore further into Percy, several people on the street had been stopping to stare at the two of them. Percy was quite uncomfortable with this, especially as most of the strangers on the street were now shooting him icy glares. He quickly decided to make use of Hermione's sudden dumbstruck state by leading her by the arm into a nearby Starbucks and seating her at a table before she could realize what was happening. Her mind cleared about who she was with and why she was so angry when Percy joined her at the small table with two paper cups of coffee, placing one down in front of her.

She frowned at Percy, but after his startling statement regarding Penelope's death, she decided to give him a chance to speak his peace. She tore open a single sugar packet, and stirred it into her coffee, all the while attempting to keep up her stern gaze. She took a sip of her coffee, after muttering a very quiet (and reluctant) 'thank you', and finally asked, as gently as she was able to despite the extreme rage she was feeling, "Would you mind further elucidating your earlier statement?"

Percy sighed, knowing that more explanation was required, but not happy about having to relive it for the umpteenth time. "It happened just after You-Know-Who was killed. I had gotten us an apartment together in Muggle London some months before, to try to keep us safe. We thought that with You-Know-Who dead, the world was safe again. So I let her go to Diagon Alley with her sister, who had always wanted to see it. You know Penelope was Muggle-born? Her sister, Pauline, she wasn't a witch. Anyway… they were out, and a group of Death Eaters were still doing raids in the name of You-Know-Who, and…" His voice broke a little bit, but he kept going. "She and her sister were both killed. I had to help bring their bodies back to their parents. It was Pauline's first time there, and Penelope was…" he took a long breath, "Penelope was only there in the first place because she was shopping for her wedding dress." He stopped talking, and stared at his cup of coffee.

It was a rare moment for Hermione: a life as a busybody and a career as a reporter gave her few opportunities to be at a loss for words, but it was already the second time that night she had found herself completely speechless. Her mouth again opened and closed several times, like a guppy. It wasn't as though she knew Penelope Clearwater very well; a brief encounter that was nearly deadly for the pair of them during her second year was all she could recollect at the moment. And though many were killed during the Dark War, including her own parents, she discovered one never became numb to it, and even old news of another fatality would never stop filling her with fresh grief.

Finally, she found what she wanted to say, all that one could ever say in the wake of Voldemort's terror: "I'm sorry."

Percy appeared to quickly brush his face with the back of his hand, but he looked up again with clear eyes, and replied, "Don't be. It's not your fault, you couldn't have known, and it was many years ago now. It was far worse for the Clearwaters. It's such a dreadful tragedy, to have to bury your only two children."

"Wow… That's terrible…" she said sombrely, shaking her head, still nearly at a total loss for words. She remained silent for a moment. "But still… I _am_ sorry. But I don't mean what I said to you before any less. You still abandoned your family." She seemed to be torn, deciding whether she should be building up something of a second wind, or in quiet, respectful mourning. She felt that she still had things that needed to be said, but decided to do so as sympathetically as possible. She would not raise her voice again, especially as she found herself more self-conscious in a public indoor location.

"You hurt everybody," she continued. "I know why this whole feud started, but I don't understand how you could let it keep going. You hurt Molly; you hurt Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Ron, Harry, me…"

"You?" Percy asked quizzically.

"Yes, me, Percy," Hermione responded, finally glancing up at him. "I had thought we were friends, too, you know. We used to talk at the Burrow all the time, don't you remember? Despite our age difference, you made me feel like an intellectual equal, even when I was just a kid. I think I was the only one who even listened to you go on and on about cauldron bottoms. Not a one of us would have expected you to betray your father and Harry the way that you did. It was just so… cold-blooded."

Percy sighed. "You're absolutely right, Hermione. One hundred percent. I screwed up, big time."

She was taken slightly aback at this comment. She never remembered Percy admitting someone else was right, let alone that _he_ had made a mistake. "You…?"

"Yes. I really, really screwed the pooch on this one. I was stubborn, and I know it started for a reason, but… it no longer seems at all like a good reason," he said, looking back down into his coffee, with what sounded like honest remorse in his voice.

Hermione was stunned by the regret she heard, not to mention the casual colloquialism. She recalled Percy's vernacular as always being rather formal, no matter what the situation.

"Why haven't you tried to contact your family in all these years, then, Percy?" she asked.

"Hermione…" he said thoughtfully, drumming his fingers on the table, "did you know that Fred and George saw me in Ottery St. Catchpole about five or six years ago?"

"What? No!" Hermione blurted out, slightly louder than she'd intended. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat, and lowered her voice. "What happened?" she inquired, at a quieter volume.

"I was less than a kilometre from the Burrow when they both ran up to me from the direction of the house. They grabbed me by the arms and side-along Apparated me to the village limits. Fred held my arms behind my back while George got in a few good punches to my face and stomach. After successfully breaking my nose – oh, yes, and stepping on my hands, breaking most of my fingers as well – they promised me that if they ever caught me anywhere near the Burrow again, they would kill me. They didn't even bother using their wands; it didn't seem to occur to them at all. The whole incident may have been a first for the twins, as I do believe they were being absolutely serious for once." Percy's tone was surprisingly casual, given the subject matter.

Hermione was floored by this new information. "How on earth are you able to be so blasé about this? That's horrible, even to you!"

Percy flinched slightly at the insult. He chose not to remind her that it was only minutes ago that she told him that he could 'fucking die for all she cares', as it was clearly a remark made in the heat of an angry moment. "It was a long time ago," he said. "I've since come to grips with it… well, mostly. As best as one can come to grips with one's brothers beating the shit out of him and threatening his life."

Hermione furrowed her brow, thinking about what was said earlier. "Wait, wait, wait, something doesn't make sense to me. Percy, what were you doing in Ottery St. Catchpole, anyway? You said that you've been living in Muggle London for ages now."

Percy sighed. "Weren't you always considered the 'brightest witch of your age', Hermione? Why do you think I've even bothered to approach you tonight after our chance meeting?"

She frowned. "Well, why did you?"

At this, he put his coffee down and looked Hermione directly in the eyes. "This is off the record, right?"

She nodded, not breaking their eye contact. _'What could Percy Weasley possibly need or want from_ me_?'_ she wondered.

"I fucked up big time, Hermione. I want my family back. I was hoping that you would help me."


	4. Making Arrangements

Disclaimer: This is not, and will never, be mine. Shame, that.

A/N: After a leave of absence, I return to writing. It's been a busy time for me, I'm fitting in new additions to this story where I can. But I feel like I'm going to be quite pleased with this one, so I really hope you all read and enjoy it! Please R&R! This is a re-write... just some edits, really. A fifth chapter should finally be up soon!

* * *

Chapter Four - Making Arrangements

Hermione was quiet for over a minute. Percy continued to give her time, watching her as he sipped his coffee. She appeared to be deep in thought, tugging slightly at the spaghetti straps of her black cocktail dress. Finally she spoke.

"You want… me… to help you… get back in touch with your family?" she said, slowly repeating his request.

Percy finished his sip of coffee. "Indeed."

"And why should I do this for you?" she asked, her voice now tinged with only the slightest hints of hostility and apprehension.

He let out a deep breath, knowing to be very careful with how he phrased his request. "Hermione, no one is saying what you 'should' or 'should not' do. I can assure you of that. I'm asking if you_ would _help me. I've wanted to do this for years now. I've seen the error of my ways, and can fully admit that it was I who was in the wrong. And I miss my family. Amidst your angry rant toward me, you spoke a lot of truths. I _was_ a jerk, and my family _is_ wonderful. But it's not enough for me to know that now. This is something I can't do on my own. Fred and George demonstrated that fact quite clearly. This will take me time and effort, thought and strategy, honesty and humility and patience and, most importantly, help. Your help, if you're willing to give it."

Hermione continued to drink her coffee in silence. Percy respected this, and followed suit. Having finished his drink first, he patiently waited for her to catch up to him. He stood up when she did, and he followed her as she still silently walked out of the Starbucks, into the street.

* * *

After quietly walking by her side for over two blocks, she, at long last, broke their silence. 

"Maybe… maybe I can help you."

Percy turned to see that Hermione had stopped, and was looking at him with the first kind expression he had seen on her face all night. It wasn't a smile, but he could see in her eyes that she no longer wanted to tear him limb from limb – rather, he could see genuine pity.

'_I'll take what I can get,' _Percy thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "Thank you, Hermione. I couldn't possibly express what this means to me."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't overdo it, Percy," she replied, brushing off his gratitude. "Now how exactly did you want to do this?"

"I'm sorry?" he questioned.

"Well, I'm a very busy person. I work very long hours at the Prophet, and I do try to make time for my friends as well. At times it seems my work allows me only a meagre social life at best. I trust that the Ministry keeps you equally busy?"

Percy nodded. "You would not be wrong about that."

"So," Hermione continued, "I assume that if you are serious about this, then it would be best to schedule regular meetings to figure out how we will accomplish your goals. You _are_ serious about this, are you not?"

He nodded more enthusiastically. "Very much so."

"Right then. Would bi-weekly meetings be enough for you?" she asked, pulling out a small agenda. She was flipping through the pages, and looked up to see that Percy was flicking through an identical calendar.

"I'd prefer weekly, if you wouldn't mind," he answered, licking the tip of his quill.

'_He would, wouldn't he,'_ she mused to herself. "Very well. Lunches, then. Sundays. It's the slowest day of my week, right after the big paper goes out. I practically never have to work that day, lest something big happens that requires my attention. And you're government, so you'll have that day free too. But we're not starting this Sunday; our first meeting will be the week after. We can determine the location by owl the day before," Hermione asserted matter-of-factly. This was a favour, but it would be done her way, or not at all.

Percy was obviously aware of this as he scribbled quickly into his organizer. "That is perfectly satisfactory. Thank you for this, Hermione," he said.

She furrowed her brow. "You can thank me when we start seeing some results."

He folded his arms. "Now how do you suggest we go about this?"

Hermione sighed, and ran a hand through her curls. "It's late, Percy. It's late and I'm drained. This whole of this evening has been, needless to say, unexpected and exhausting. We'll think, okay? We'll brainstorm, and discuss it when we meet. But right now, I think the street is quiet enough for Apparition, and I'd quite like to get home."

He nodded. "I understand. I know I keep saying it, but thank you. It's been a long time since… That part of my life, well, I… It really means…"

Hermione held up her hand, indicating for him to silence his stammered par-statements. "It's okay, Percy. I know."

He closed his mouth, and moved just slightly toward her for a mere instant. Then, seeming to think the better of it, he held out his hand. "Good night, Hermione."

Agreeably, she shook his hand. "Good night, Percy," and upon letting go, Apparated home with a loud _crack!_

* * *

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of her darkened bedroom, Hermione mulled over the bizarre events of the evening. Running into Percy, of all people, for an interview, of all things, had been startling, to say the least. She recollected the hate-filled rage she was feeling towards him mere hours ago. Somehow, that anger had dissipated after hearing him out. He, like everyone else she knew, was not absolved from the pain and loss of the Dark War and its aftermath. And being able to vent the hurt she felt on behalf of herself and Harry and the entire Weasley clan probably helped clear her mind, too. 

'_But I'm _not_ his family,' _she thought to herself. _'I wonder if they'll be able to forgive him. What can we do? What can _he _do? They say that time heals all wounds…. Has enough passed in order for Percy to be forgiven? He does seem as though he's ready to work for this. And he really acted different, still a little formal and professional and generally Percy-like, but less… tightly wound. It's definitely an improvement. But he also seemed to be a desperate man. Perhaps the Weasleys will be able to see that, to look past the pomp and show of the old Percy and see a man ready to repent for his mistakes.'_

She pulled her covers up higher, and rolled onto her side. Her eyes fluttered shut as she slowly began to drift off to sleep. This would be a major project in her already-busy life. But it wouldn't necessarily be impossible. There were many old wounds, but with some help, they may heal.

After all, hers already had started to.


	5. Percy's Perspective

Disclaimer: This story is based on the universe created by J. K. Rowling, super genius.

A/N: It's been a long time since I updated this story. Chapter six is actually almost done. In case you read this story only when it first came out, I've gone back and re-edited chapters one through four, fleshing them out somewhat. This chapter introduces Percy's side of things. I hope you like it, please R&R! More to come for this story soon, as well as a new chapter for _Private Lessons_, I promise!

* * *

Chapter Five – Percy's Perspective

Percy collapsed into his brown leather recliner with a deep sigh. He glanced around his living room. It was very tidy, with clean white walls and shiny hardwood floor, and many mahogany bookshelves lining the room. He rubbed at his eyes, and kept them shut for a while.

'_Who knew a simple request for an interview would turn into this?'_ he thought to himself.

He let out a deep sigh, feeling emotionally drained. Seeing someone from his past, someone connected to his family stirred up a lot of old emotions. Day by day, he had been living without hope of seeing his family again. It had been hard, certainly, and it only got harder after Penelope…

'_Gods, poor Penelope…'_

That was just more old pain he had to rehash for Hermione tonight. Percy had long since stopped pining for his dead love and moved on with his life, though he still felt occasional twinges of guilt for doing so. He knew she wouldn't have wanted him to stop living on her account, just as he would not have wanted that for her if their positions had been reversed – and for months, he had wished that was so.

But despite the decision to keep living, his life for the past several years had been rather lonely and empty. Few friends – more colleagues than friends, really, as Percy's lifelong habit of keeping anything personal private made it difficult for him to connect with people. Finn had really been the only one to force his way in.

There had been women, of course, but nothing with any potential for permanence or real emotional intimacy, so things always fizzled before long.

Yes, there had certainly been a gap in his life, one that was supposed to be filled by family. And worse, he had to live with the fact that he himself had created that gap, and had no clue as to how to bridge it.

But Percy had a feeling rising in him that he was sure he hadn't experienced in a long time – hope. Seeing Hermione tonight had given that to him. Oh, she was mad, no questions there, but she had eventually heard him out. Agreed to help him, even, which he wasn't sure she would. And no, she may not be family, but she was as close to them as he'd been in a long time.

'_This might just be exactly what I've been waiting for all these years,'_ Percy mused to himself as he reclined, and began to drift off. _'A chance.'

* * *

_

A strong sunbeam managed to breach the cracks between the blinds of Percy's windows and fell across his closed eyes. His eyes squeezed shut more tightly for a few moments before opening slowly, through several blinks.

"Mmph," he mumbled incoherently to himself. "What time is it?"

He rolled over in the large, comfortable chair, and started to fall back to sleep. In the second that his eyelids fluttered, however, he caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall.

"NINE THIRTY?" he hollered, hurling himself out of the recliner and halfway across the room in a single bound. "How did it get to be this late? I'm never late for work, never! Eldritch is going to do his nut if he catches me. Where are my shoes?"

He continued to ramble irritably to himself as he hurried to find his briefcase and shoes. He quickly weighed the options of whether he had time for a shower and a change of clothes, but realized that it would only make his tardiness that much worse.

Percy attempted to smooth his hair in the hallway mirror, followed by a quick Cleansing Charm in effort to spruce up a little, before finally Apparating into the Ministry entrance – now officially over forty minutes late for work.

* * *

Finn's eyes widened at the sight of his ever-punctual co-worker trying his best to sneak over to his desk well past the start of his shift.

"If I wasn't seeing it with my own eyes, I wouldn't believe it! Percy Weasley, just where have you been?" Finn asked, slightly louder than Percy would have preferred, as he approached his desk.

"Shut up," Percy hissed, looking around the office to see if their boss was anywhere in sight.

Finn laughed. "Ha! I don't know what you're worrying about, Percy. Eldritch doesn't get in before half past ten. You wouldn't have noticed, of course, as you always get in an hour early and don't look up from your work 'til lunchtime. But it's completely safe for me to be taking the piss right now."

Percy glared at his friend, but breathed a sigh of relief all the same. He removed his robes, and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt before sitting at his desk. Finn's eyes widened further.

"Oh no. Oh no! Not only late for work, Percy, but is this the Walk of Shame I detect?" he asked, his voice getting louder as he took more pleasure in the ridicule.

"What are you talking about?" Percy grumbled, somewhat absently, while sorting his desk.

Finn stood and pointed at Percy gleefully. "You! In the same clothes! As last night!"

Percy looked at his own rumpled outfit, and put his face in his hands. "Oh god."

"I saw you follow that reporter. Percy, you got _shagged_ last night, _and_ you came into work late! Ha! Who'd have thought you'd have it in you to be that reckless with a workday? It must have been pretty great in order for you to forget to change, _and_ come in over an hour and a half later than usual. Let's see, who should I tell first?"

"No, you don't understand!"

"Not Eldritch, he'd fire you on the spot… 'fraternizing inappropriately with the press' or some such grounds. Not that _he_ and that Rita Skeeter didn't used to be involved in an illicit affair – the hypocrite. I can't tell sweet little Hazel from Accounting, it'd break the poor dear's heart, I think she's always held a candle for you… Never mind the fact that she's about thirty years your senior…" Finn rambled on.

"Would you knock it off?" Percy said finally, some anger in his voice.

"What, you really don't want me to tell Hazel?" Finn asked mischievously.

"No, you just don't understand everything about last night," Percy insisted, exasperated. "The reporter… Hermione Granger… She was, well…"

"Very attractive, mate, a very nice bit of skirt, I can understand why you slipped away from me to chat her up some more," Finn interrupted, trying to validate his friend's actions for him.

"No! She, she…knows my family," Percy finished.

"Oh," said Finn, colour draining from his face as he gained understanding of the situation. He awkwardly shifted his weight from one side to the other, while trying to come up with something to say. "Are they… close?"

"Extremely. She's practically been adopted by them."

"Wow. Well then." Finn paused for a long while, and Percy used this opportunity to start getting his work out. It seemed as though he was going to be able to make up for the time he lost coming in late when Finn spoke up again.

"Right. You're coming to dinner tonight."

Percy put his work down. "No, Finn, I couldn't possibly."

"You could and you will," Finn answered.

"I have too much work to catch up on; I'm already behind on my day from coming in late…"

"You're in early every day. We both know you're _ahead_ on your work. And mine, for that matter."

"I don't want to trouble Moira…"

"Moira's making a ham tonight, and always cooks too much. And Aisling hasn't seen you in ages, so you'd be best bringing her a surprise if you want to stay on her good side. She has a mean cold shoulder, you know," Finn insisted. He knew he was playing his cards right. Past experience showed that Percy could never say no to Aisling.

Percy sighed. "What time shall I be by?" he asked, resignedly.

Finn clapped. "Excellent, mate! Be by at six thirty! I'll let you off the hook of talking about last night 'til then!"

Percy rolled his eyes, but was glad to be able to focus on his work.

* * *

Percy arrived at Finn's house at six twenty-five – always punctual. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but it swung open before he could.

Finn smirked at his friend standing in his front door. "So predictable, Percy," he greeted him smugly. "Always five minutes early."

Percy grinned wryly, and passed his friend a bottle. "I brought you some wine, and a little something for Aisling."

"That'll make her happy. Come in, Moira's just finishing up in the kitchen."

Percy followed along to the kitchen, where Moira, Finn's wife, was setting the table.

"Evening, Percy! Glad you could join us tonight," she greeted him with a smile.

Moira was only one year Percy's senior, with very pale skin and jet black hair she kept in a tidy pageboy cut. Percy was about to return Moira's greeting when a tiny girl came sprinting in his direction.

"Uncle Percy, Uncle Percy!" Aisling squealed, wrapping herself around Percy's left leg.

"Hi Aisling, how have you been?" he asked fondly, placing a hand on her head. Aisling, Finn and Moira's energetic four-year-old daughter, looked exactly like a miniature version of her mother. However, having been born and raised in England, she didn't have the thick Irish brogue of her parents.

She suddenly unwrapped herself from Percy's leg and stood with her hands on her hips, frowning at him. "You haven't come to see me in _forever_," she grumbled.

Percy bent down to eye-level with her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Is there any way you can forgive me?" he asked.

She huffed angrily for emphasis. "I don't know…" she said.

He drew his hand into a pocket inside his robes, and pulled out a silvery-coloured plush panther. Aisling gasped gleefully, clapping her hands together.

"Just like Mummy's Patromus!" she exclaimed, taking the toy from Percy's hands and giving it a hug.

"Exactly like your mum's Patronus," Percy replied, while Moira grinned at the pair of them.

"What do you say to your Uncle Percy?" Finn asked over his shoulder, pulling the cork from the bottle of wine Percy brought him.

"Thank you, Uncle Percy!" Aisling chanted, giving him a hug. As she let go and stepped back, she had a stern look on her face again. "But you'd better not wait that long before visiting me again!"

He hung his head in mock shame. "I won't," he replied, sounding thoroughly reprimanded.

Looking satisfied that her lecture had sunk in, Aisling ran off to put her new toy with her other cherished possessions.

"Come along, then, Percy, Aisling's already eaten. It'll just be the grown-ups at the table tonight," Moira said in her charming lilt.

"Yes, come on, Perce," Finn said, pulling out the chair for his wife to sit down. "And Moira, I believe he has a _very_ interesting story for us this evening."

* * *

Percy had finished relaying the whole sordid tale of the night before by the time Moira was setting out dessert of sticky toffee pudding. He made sure to tone down the verbal abuse slightly in case Aisling overheard.

When he finished, Finn let out a low whistle. "What a night you had, mate. Again, I'm real sorry for taking the piss this morning."

Percy waved his hand, as though to convey Finn shouldn't think anything of it. "You couldn't have known."

"Hardly the point," Finn said, looking guilty.

"Just forget it. I've got bigger fish to fry now, anyway," he assured him.

"So what's going to happen next?" Moira asked, trying to hold in an urgent, impatient tone in her voice.

Percy sighed. "Well, she said that she would help me. We're going to meet regularly. I got her to agree to once a week – Sunday lunches, but starting next week. I don't know what we're going to do, or what she has planned… But, surely it's a better start than the last several years, isn't it?"

Moira and Finn nodded enthusiastically.

"Definitely," Finn answered. "This is what you've been waiting for, isn't it? You must be thrilled."

Percy drummed his fingers on the table. "I've been waiting for the opportunity to get back in touch with my family, certainly. But through Hermione Granger? I'm a bit nervous about that, to be quite frank."

"Nervous? Why would you be nervous?" Finn asked. "She forgave you, didn't she? And she seemed nice enough. Lovely girl."

Moira turned to her husband, eyes suddenly shooting daggers. "Was she now?" she said, in a voice that bordered on the dangerous.

"I… uh… only in that she…" Finn stuttered.

Percy cut in. "Don't worry, Moira. He followed the rules, and acted like a complete sod. No woman in their right mind would find him attractive after that."

"Is that true?" Moira asked, suspiciously.

Finn held up his right hand. "I swear, Moira, I was a complete div. She would have no reason to like me."

"She even called him smarmy later," Percy added.

"You didn't tell me that," mumbled Finn, annoyed.

Moira looked satisfied. "But why would you be nervous about this, Percy?" she asked, taking up the prior conversation with a folding of her arms. "If she seems so nice…"

"Nice, brilliant, hard-working, heroic, yes. But if I recall, the spats she'd get into with my brother Ron were legendary. And when she tore into me last night, let's just say it was only _slightly_ less terrifying than that encounter with Fred and George from some years back that I've told you about," Percy finished.

Finn and Moira winced at that remark.

"But you're still going to try?" Finn asked.

"Well, yes, of course," Percy answered. "But for all I know, she still thinks I'm a git, and she couldn't be blamed for thinking that. But what if she changes her mind, and decides not to help me? This is the first chance I've had in years, and it could very well be the only one I ever get. I'm going to have to do something to convince her otherwise, to prove that I'm not the same Percy who left my family behind because of pure, bloody egotism."

Moira smiled. "Well, you're not that Percy anymore," she assured him, patting his hand. "We know that, you're such a good bloke. Does this Hermione know any of your friends? They could make for character references, of a sort. She sees you know good people, who think well of you… It proves you're a good, likeable person. Right?"

Finn nodded. "That's not a bad idea. Got any friends who she knows?"

Percy grimaced. This was a confession he didn't really want to have to make – it sounded pathetic. "Not _so_ much, no…"

"Well, who do you see socially? You can introduce her to your friends if you're going to be seeing each other on a regular basis," Finn pressed on.

"It really would make sense," added Moira. "Who do you know?"

"Well, there's you two…" Percy stated flatly.

When the silence had continued a bit longer than it should have, Finn spoke up. "And?"

Percy sighed. "And that's it."

Moira cleared her throat. "You're kidding."

"Well, I'm busy with work, and I just… am not very close with many people," Percy finished.

"Merlin," Finn said in response, rubbing his hand against his shaved head. "I knew you were separated from your family, I didn't know you had separated from the rest of the world, too. Well, that seals it, Percy. We will help prove to Hermione that you're not a git."

"How? She thinks you're a git, too," Percy pointed out.

Moira cut in. "Look, Percy, if Finn and I meet this girl with you at some point early in to this, we'll be able to help vouch for your character. You just try and explain at some point why Finn was acting like a complete tit. In the mean time, you should try and prepare for your first meeting with her. Think about things – what this means to you, how far you'd be willing to go to get your family back. Strategize. Organize the way you would for work. Then she'll understand how seriously you are taking this."

She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, looking satisfied with her advice, and smirking at her dumbstruck husband. Percy leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"You're right, Moira," he started. "I've… I've got to go home and think. You've both been a great help to me, and I'd like to introduce Hermione to you both fairly soon, if possible. I know you've already met her, Finn, but you could meet her properly, and not have to act like a complete twat."

Finn looked momentarily offended, but seemed to give in quickly. "Guilty," he acknowledged.

Moira smiled. "We've love to meet her," she said.

All three stood up from the table. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Moira," Percy said, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. He shook Finn's hand, and made his way to the door, his friends close behind.

"I'm going to think this through. Hermione won't be able to change her mind or refuse me if I'm fully prepared," he spoke aloud, trying to assure himself along with Finn and Moira.

Finn slapped him on the shoulder. "That's the spirit, mate. I know you, after spending the night mulling this over, you'll come into work tomorrow one hundred percent sure it's all going to work out."

Percy grinned, and stepped out the door, thinking to himself, _'I hope you're right.'_


	6. A Weasley Family Dinner

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, shy of a couple original characters.

A/N: Hi folks... I'm going to try to get a bit more writing done. I hope you like this chapter, and I promise you that there's going to be more action happening really soon! Please read and review!

* * *

Chapter Six – A Weasley Family Dinner

There was, of course, an excellent rationale behind Hermione's arrangement to meet Percy specifically for Sunday lunches.

She had shared with him the reason of that being a day off for them both, but that wasn't the only motivation for selecting that day.

The main reason was that Sunday lunch was a mere few hours before Sunday dinner. And Sunday dinner was when she went to eat at the Burrow, every week like clockwork. Should any future plans need overseeing, or setting into action, she would be guaranteed to see the Weasleys right away.

It was rare that the entire Weasley clan were able to attend Sunday dinners, but as Hermione arrived at the Burrow, she found it packed to the brim with redheads. The ever-watchful hostess as always, Molly Weasley hurried to the door to fuss over Hermione.

"Hermione, dear, are you getting enough to eat? You look so thin! I swear, you put in too many hours at that newspaper. Don't you have an assistant? You should, so you don't have to feel like that place would fall apart without you. Goodness, you look so pale! You need to get out of that office more. Come, sit in the living room, dinner will be ready any minute now. It's a full house tonight, isn't it wonderful?" Molly said quickly welcoming her honorary daughter, nary taking a breath.

Hermione chuckled at Molly's fussing, knowing by experience not to take her comments too personally. She kissed her hello on the cheek, and joined the rest of the family in the already-crowded living room.

Squeezing onto the worn, cushy sofa between Fred and George, she surveyed the scene of the happy family before her.

Bill and Fleur were kneeling on the floor, trying to catch up with their energetic tots, Giselle and William Junior. Hermione greatly admired the couple's perseverance through Bill's injury. The scars left by Greyback had mostly faded, only appearing as deep lines in his face when he smiled broadly. He still worked for Gringotts, but had settled down into an office-based job in London in order to stay close to his family at all times.

After having had two children, some of Fleur's youthful radiance had faded a bit, but she was still a very beautiful woman. She kept in good shape, but this was not without extra effort – though the task of chasing her active children helped to a degree. She surprised the entire Weasley clan by deciding to become a full-time housewife after Giselle was born, and soon mastered cooking and cleaning spells after a great deal of time spent being tutored by Molly.

The precocious five-year-old Giselle looked quite like her mother, but had fine, strawberry-blonde hair – a colour that seemed to exist as a combination of both her parents'. William Junior, aged three and more affectionately known to the family as Will, was the spitting image of his father, down to his reluctance to have his hair cut. Fleur had recounted to the family that Will would scream blue bloody murder whenever she tried to even trim it. Arthur and Molly had chuckled at this, thinking about how many times Molly had pleaded with Bill to cut his ponytail.

Charlie sat in a recliner in the corner, reading the large, Sunday-edition Daily Prophet (Hermione smiled whenever she saw a Weasley reading one of her by-lines) while his wife Natasha chatted animatedly with Arthur. Everyone knew Arthur had a bit of a soft spot for Charlie's half-blood Romanian wife.

When Charlie first introduced her to his family five years prior as his fiancée, Natasha Dumitrescu, Hermione had her pegged all wrong. She saw the tall, elegant Romanian girl with clear, pale complexion and shiny, deep brown hair and assumed that an additional Weasley brother was bringing home another delicate princess-type, much like Fleur once was (and to a slightly lesser degree, continued to be). It turned out she could not have been more incorrect. The lovely brunette witch was not at all the type Hermione expected, being unafraid of her husband's line of work, or of getting her own hands dirty. The latter fact was heavily due to her profession. She was indeed a witch, but after she finished her schooling, she decided to follow in the footsteps of her Muggle father and trained to become an electrician. During Charlie and Natasha's visits to the Burrow, Charlie would catch up mostly with his mother and brothers, as his father would near totally monopolize Natasha's time. The two became fast friends, spending hours in the garage where Natasha helped Arthur with his gadgets through her keen mechanical knowledge and spell casting.

Married for three years now, Charlie and Natasha did not yet have children, but always shared a patient smile with each other at Molly's regular hints about wanting more grandchildren.

To Hermione's right on the couch sat George with his long-time girlfriend and first employee of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Verity Harper. Verity sat on George's lap on the crowded couch and leaned toward Hermione to greet her with a hug.

George and Verity had been working together for some time before they had become involved. They had very similar dating histories; Fred had told Hermione that before the two started dating, they were both "playing the field" an awful lot. But as a couple, they were clearly very happy, despite George's impatience with Verity's constant sarcasm, and Verity's exasperation with George's propensity to gossip. They shared a flat together in Diagon Alley, though Verity no longer worked at the London location of WWW – she now managed their Hogsmeade branch, the shop's first of its many expansions.

George ran his fingers through Verity's cropped blonde locks in attempt to keep her composed while he gave Hermione the whole story about why Fred, who was sitting to her left, was looking so uncharacteristically grouchy.

"It's a girl," George whispered conspiratorially to Hermione, while Verity rolled her eyes and grimaced at her boyfriend.

"A girl? That's got him _this_ wound up?" Hermione questioned. Fred's usually pleasant demeanour seemed to be exchanged that evening for a rather cross scowl.

George nodded gleefully at the expense of his brother. "She's a regular at the shop, been coming in for months now. He keeps trying to chat her up, but she won't give him the time of day."

Hermione, never one to allow herself to be left out of Weasley family news, was intrigued. "Who is this girl? What's she like?"

George shrugged. "Don't know who she is, we've never even gotten a name out of her. As for what she's like? You'd never have guessed this would be Fred's type. She's got long, bright blue hair. I thought that maybe she was a Metamorphmagus at first, just like Tonks was." His voice turned sober and quiet at the mention of the deceased Auror. He started again after a brief and respectful moment of silence. "But she always looks the same, so I think she dyes it, or that it's a glamour charm. She always has loads of dark makeup on. She's always wearing black, and she's got lots of metal in her face."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Do you mean like braces, or piercings?"

"Piercings, loads of them – in her lips and ears and eyebrows and nose," George answered, leaning back with a satisfied grin.

Hermione's eyes widened at she pictured the girl George was describing. "So… Fred's into _goth girls_?" she asked, fairly surprised.

George shrugged again. "Appears that way. But like I said, she's not giving him the time of day. That's why he's acting like such a grumpy git tonight – she visited the shop again today, and he got nowhere."

Fred reached past Hermione to give his brother a swift punch in the arm, while simultaneously Verity swatted at his other arm.

"Ow!" George exclaimed, looking from his twin to his girlfriend and back. "What was that for?"

Verity answered first. "You shouldn't pick on your brother, you big gobshite. If I recall, it took you awhile to properly get my attention. And don't gossip, you sound like a teenage girl. I'm going to help Molly in the kitchen so I don't have to listen to your ridiculous chatter." She was as good as her word, leaving his lap and smacking his head an extra time as she went.

George grumbled and turned to his twin, looking past Hermione. "And what's your excuse?"

Fred's normally sunny face was still glowering at his brother. "It's enough that I know nothing about this girl after months of trying. You don't have to announce it to the whole world. What will happen to my reputation?"

Hermione and George both snorted with laughter.

"Which reputation is it that you're worried about, Fred?" Hermione asked between giggles.

Fred bristled indignantly. "Well, of course I would be talking about my reputation as_ lady-killer extraordinaire_," he retorted, causing George and Hermione to break out into a fresh fit of laughter. "What?" he asked, sounding even more annoyed.

"It's nothing, Fred," Hermione answered, wiping a hysteria-induced tear away from her eye. "We don't mean to be laughing at you, honestly. You're a bit right, actually, about the lady-killer thing, though I hate to admit it. We've never seen you have problems getting a girl's attention before, or seen you so wound up about one. I'm sorry, we shouldn't be laughing. Right, George?"

His twin cleared his throat quickly, and tried to stop chuckling. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. Come one, mate, she's in the store all the time, you'll chat her up yet, right?"

Fred visibly brightened somewhat. "Yeah, you're right. I mean, she can't possibly resist me forever, can she? It's only a matter of time 'til my charm and animal magnetism win her over."

George and Hermione muffled their snickering at Fred's egotism as best they could. "Absolutely," they both agreed.

The twins' disagreement placated, Hermione was privately stunned at the thought that these two convivial, fun-loving pranksters would have it in them to beat up their own brother and threaten to kill him. Then again, she had also been feeling a lot of rage toward Percy when first facing him alone.

'_It's going to be some task getting those two to hear him out,'_ she thought to herself. _'I hope I know what I've gotten myself into.'_

She continued surveying the Burrow's living room. Ginny was sitting on Harry's lap in an armchair in the corner of the room, chatting animatedly to each other. As for her other best friend, Ron has just entered the living room, hand-in-hand with his new girlfriend, Luna Lovegood.

Harry and Ron were now pursuing their long-desired career paths together, having successfully completed NEWT equivalents, Auror training and now working for the Ministry. Hermione wondered after seeing Percy why he made no mention of her two oldest friends, since they worked in the same building. She later worked out that the reason they wouldn't have had any contact with Percy was simply due to how separate and different their departments were from each other's.

It was still obvious to anyone that Harry and Ginny continued to be completely head-over-heels for each other, and Hermione, like the rest of the Weasleys, was relieved and thrilled when they finally got engaged the previous month, after having dated for several years. Hermione asked Harry shortly after the proposal why it took him so long to do so. He agreed it was silly, but insisted he just couldn't work up the nerve to do so, couldn't find the right time, et cetera. Ginny confided to Hermione that she thought he was waiting to get to a certain stage in his career. He had passed his training and exams, and had settled in to the position, so the time was just right now. But they were very happy, and despite the fact that Hermione was beginning to get tired of Ginny thrusting bridal magazines in her direction, she was ecstatic that two of her best friends were finally going to officially tie the knot.

Ron and Luna had only been dating for a couple of months now. The two reconnected through Ginny, as she and Luna had just finished their Healer Apprenticeships together at St. Mungo's.

Hermione had found it rather annoying when the two first got together, simply because everyone – from Harry and Ginny to Molly and Arthur to Ron and Luna themselves – kept coming up to her to ask if she "was okay with it". She certainly had no problem with Ron and Luna seeing each other, but being asked about it began to get maddening. Now that the constant questioning had died down, though, she knew that she was very happy for the couple, and were very sweet together. Luna, who had previously had a long-standing crush on the youngest Weasley boy during their Hogwarts years, admired him more than enough to stroke Ron's delicate ego, while her unique personality kept him on his toes. And in receiving such warm affection, Ron was extremely attentive and caring in return.

Contrary to everyone's concerns, Hermione very much liked seeing the pair together. Reflecting now on the year she had spent dating the redhead, she was fairly sure that they both knew, deep down, at the start of their awkward courtship, that it just wasn't meant to last. They shouldn't have even lasted as long as they did, but neither had wanted to hurt the other. She remembered that they both finally got the courage to end things at precisely the same time, each blurting out their doubts about one week before what would have been their first year anniversary. The break-up was surprisingly easy, as they spent the evening talking out the last few things that needed to be said, and agreeing that they were just better suited as friends.

Until now, neither had managed anything resembling a meaningful relationship with anyone since the break-up, but there had been no jealousy of any kind. The fact that all seemed to instinctively be concerned for Hermione's feelings this time made her realize even in these early stages of their relationship that Luna would turn out to be "the one" for Ron. She suspected she was the only one who was consciously acknowledged this fact, and bet herself they'd be engaged within the year, whether they knew it now or not.

Hermione sighed aloud, still pondering the Percy problem. She suspected that after Fred and George, Ron would be the hardest of the bunch to win over. Percy had once said some pretty rotten things about Harry, which Hermione knew was still more of a sore spot for Ron than it was for Harry.

She recalled the conversation she and Harry had long ago, shortly after the war, when they wondered to each other why Percy still hadn't come back to the family. She had asked if he was still bothered by those things he said in his letter to Ron, and Harry had shook his head.

"Percy's bigheaded, but he's not malicious," he had told her. "I was really angry at the time, sure, but I know he was just having his mind changed for him by the government he works for. If he could apologize, I know I'd forgive him, and probably everyone else would too. But the longer he takes, the harder it's going to be."

At the time he had said this, Hermione had not agreed. But just a few nights ago, she heard Percy out, and knew Harry was right. The problem was going to be getting everyone to hear him out as well.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Molly re-entering the room. "Time for dinner, everyone. Get to the table!" she bossed, in her friendly and kindly way.

They all sat around the Burrow's dining room table, magically enlarged that evening to accommodate the large number of family members that turned up.

Taking a seat between Fleur and Luna, she puzzled over how she was going to go about assisting Percy with his task, which was suddenly seeming far more arduous, as she assessed the family.

'_Bill wouldn't be a bad place to start,'_ she mused to herself. He had always been the most laidback of all the Weasleys, in fact in her many years of visiting the Burrow, she was fairly sure he was the only one that she had never seen display the famous Weasley temper.

'_On the other hand,'_ she thought, watching him trying to coax Giselle into taking some carrots, _'now that he has a family, he's gotten all the more protective of them. That temper could be just biding its time, for all I know. Perhaps he shouldn't be the first family member we try to convince.'_

She cast her eyes around the table, and as they fell on the twins, she merely thought, _'Definitely not,' _and continues looking.

As Molly re-entered the room with another bowl of mashed potatoes, Hermione considered the possibility of beginning with the caring Weasley matriarch.

'_She'd welcome him back in an instant, and force everyone else to, as well,'_ she pondered. _'But they'd only do it grudgingly. It'd be a hollow welcome at best, and the others will never really forgive him. We can't start with Molly.'_ Hermione also inwardly apologized to her, for not being able to tell her that she had contact with her estranged son. She would have to wait.

Arthur wouldn't be a good place to start, either, she determined, as he certainly wouldn't keep any secrets from his wife. Charlie probably wouldn't be too difficult, because he was away from the family a lot anyway. But he and Percy didn't have much in common, so Hermione decided that would require a bit more thought.

Glancing at Ron, her best friend and ex-boyfriend, she felt hope rise within her, wondering if she could get one of her oldest friends on Percy's side. But her heart fell almost instantly, knowing that Ron's capacity for the Weasley temper was great, and his stubbornness equally so.

'_That leaves one person,'_ Hermione reflected, looking at Ginny, who was spooning potatoes onto Harry's plate. Hot-headed as she could be, Ginny had mellowed somewhat with her new career, and was generally preoccupied with beginning to plan her wedding.

Throughout the meal, Hermione reflected on the idea a bit more. No one seemed to notice how unusually she was, as the house was so full and bustling with voices regardless. By the time Molly came out with dessert (apple pie and strawberry fool), Hermione thought that it probably would mean a lot to Ginny to have the whole family reunited by the time of her wedding. _'So that settles it,'_ she thought. She knew where she would tell Percy to begin.


	7. Getting Started

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Everything belongs to the great Ms. Rowling.

A/N: Hello! I've been away from this story for quite some time, though this chapter has been half-written for a while now. I do intend on finishing all my in-progress stories, even if it takes a while to do so. I don't have much time to write, but I still enjoy it. I've also got some new stories planned! I know Percy is not very popular, but I hope you'll all give him a chance in my story. Thank you very much for reading! (Reviews make me happy, too!)

* * *

Chapter Seven – Getting Started

Percy and Hermione's first lunch meeting was at a small bistro in Central Muggle London on the following Sunday. It had been over a week since their first, unexpected encounter, and both were a little unsure of what they expected to come from the meeting today.

Hermione arrived at the bistro ten minutes before the scheduled time. The hostess took her to a booth, where she found Percy already there. Hermione privately rolled her eyes when she saw him, thinking to herself, _'Thank goodness this isn't a date; we'd look ridiculous,'_ as she realized that they were dressed nearly identically, in crisp white dress shirts and black trousers.

They politely greeted each other, and sat quietly looking over their menus. It wasn't until they placed their drink orders with their waiter that they felt they could look directly at each other. Clearly, the slight feeling of awkwardness was mutual – after all, they had only just seen each other for the first time in several years, and now they were working together to change Percy's life.

Hermione was the first to break the silence. "What I'd like you to know," she started, clearing her throat, "is that I obviously can't and won't make any promises about how this will turn out. I can, however, assure you that I will do my best insofar as guiding you toward the appropriate actions to take. I want you to know I will not mislead you in any way, but should it appear at any time that you are not taking this seriously, then the whole deal is off and these meetings are through. Do you understand?"

Percy nodded. "That sounds more than fair," he agreed. "And I want you to know that I am absolutely serious about this. There is nothing that means more to me than getting my family back." He paused for a moment to think about work, which had been his top (and only) priority for the last several years. Then he shook his head. "Nothing," he reiterated.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I'm glad to hear that," she said, still finding herself surprised with his earnestness despite their previous encounter. There had, admittedly, still been doubt in her mind as to how sincere he was about the whole matter. Though he had seemed it, she hadn't seen him for many years, and she didn't know if he just expected her to come up with some sort of magical solution to the whole dilemma.

Percy let out a deep breath as he seemed to be gaining some small approval from his lunch companion, and found the courage to keep going.

"So I've been considering the best way to go about this," he said.

"So have I," Hermione nodded. "What have you come up with so far?"

He took a deep breath and was about to answer her, when their waiter interrupted to ask if they'd had enough time to decide.

After Hermione ordered the wild mushroom ravioli and Percy selected the crab cakes, they decided they had enough privacy to continue their conversation, and Percy cleared his throat.

"Well," he began, "I've been thinking about where to begin. Obviously, we can't start with my mother. She would force me on everyone, and things would be no better than they currently are."

"My thoughts exactly," interjected Hermione.

"So," he continued, "We obviously need to commence elsewhere. You have the advantage of knowing my family better than I do now..." He paused to do his best to suppress a melancholy sigh at the last phrase he spoke, and then carried on. "And whether or not you would specifically know how each individual feels about me, I imagine you would have a better idea with whom we should start. However, based on what I do know of the Weasley clan and its legendary temper, it will certainly be a challenge to win them over. And while my sister has undoubtedly inherited the capacity for a great temper, I also recall she is the most willing to hear someone out." He hesitated at this time, wanting to gauge Hermione's approval of his short speech, and waited for feedback.

To his relief, Hermione smiled. "Actually, that's exactly along the lines of what I was thinking," she said. She sipped her ice water, and spoke again. "It's good to know that we are on the same wavelength with this. It's probably going to make the planning that much easier, if we aren't bickering over important decisions."

Percy grinned back. "I can assure you, there will be no bickering on my end. I'm nothing but grateful for your help."

They were both silent for a few moments. Hermione took another long gulp of her water. "Okay," she said. "Do you have any ideas as to how to win Ginny over, then?"

They were interrupted again by the waiter, setting down their plates of food in front of them.

As they tucked in, Percy answered her question. "Not specifically, as of yet. I would like to get your input as to a general idea of what you feel would impact her the most. I care about this, and I care about my sister, and I want to do this right."

Though she didn't say so, inwardly, Hermione was quite pleased, as well as impressed with his focus and dedication. _'Not that I should be surprised, I suppose,'_ she thought. _'He's always been motivated. It's good to hear that it's finally about something in addition to his career.'_

Between careful bites of her pasta, she asked, "Do you know that Ginny and Harry are getting married in a few months?"

Percy nodded. "I saw the announcement in your paper last month. I was very pleased to see it; those two have always been a good match for each other, and frankly, it's about time."

"Agreed."

"If I was still in Ginny's life, I would have had a talk with Harry a couple of years back about him dragging his feet on this one. It would have been my brotherly duty."

Hermione giggled at this comment, as she privately concurred that someone ought to have had a word with Harry some time before now. "Well, though it hasn't been said, I'm sure it would mean a lot to Ginny for everyone to be there on the wedding day. At the same time, you know her well enough to realize that she wouldn't be a pushover." She paused pensively for a moment, and then added, "It will probably require some sort of a grand gesture on your part. Something that would mean a lot to her and to you, to show her that you care about her. And an apology for mistakes of the past, and wishing her the best for her future, while indicating that you hope you can one day be a part of it, without being pushy or overly anxious."

Hermione waited for a response from Percy, who was now staring into his plate as he chewed on his crab cakes.

"There is something…" he finally said, slowly. He looked up at Hermione. "It would certainly mean a lot to me."

"What would?"

"Not here," he paused. "Could you…" He started again, shaking his head slightly as though shaking off the awkward speech. "I hope you don't think this impertinent on my part, but would you please come to my flat after we finish here? I wouldn't ask, but I have an idea of something that I would like to give to Ginny, and I'd like you to see it."

Hermione was a bit puzzled, but Percy maintained that he would prefer her to see the item in question, and that it wasn't really something he wished to discuss in public anyway, so she acquiesced.

After Percy paid the bill for lunch (something Hermione would normally object to, but allowed him on this instance as it was she who was helping him) and they left the bistro, Hermione asked, "Where do you live? Do you live in the wizards' part of London, or…"

He cut her off. "I live in the Muggle area, but not far from the wizards' quarter. I prefer it in Muggle London, given my current circumstances. No familiar faces to judge me, you know?"

There was a bit of an awkward silence at this, so Hermione just nodded. She finally interrupted the silence with the matter-of-fact statement, "It must be pretty hard for you."

Percy shrugged. "It's lonely, that's for sure. But some days I almost forget – days where I get really busy with work. It makes the days when I do remember that much worse. So the more I throw myself into my work, the better."

Hermione frowned, thinking to herself that now she was on speaking terms with Percy, she seemed to find herself less sure of what to actually say to him.

The remainder of the trip to Percy's flat was spent in silence.

* * *

Upon arriving, Percy requested that Hermione wait just a moment in the living room. She sat down on the sleek brown leather sofa (no overstuffed furniture, of course), and took in her surroundings. The sensation of being in an apartment so much like hers – with only a slightly different colour scheme – was an odd one. All of her friends' places had a very casual feel to them, whereas Percy's had the same extreme tidiness, the same sense of order, and the same apparent need for filled bookshelves to cover nearly every unused space. As she waited, she fidgeted with her hands.

Percy emerged from another room after only a couple minutes, carrying a flat box. He sat down next to Hermione, and placed it in her hands.

"I bought this for Penelope. For the wedding. I don't know if it's appropriate, given that I don't know what Ginny plans on wearing or even if she would accept this, but… If we were close, if I hadn't messed up, I'd want her to have this. If Penelope was still alive, I'm certain she would too."

Hermione carefully removed the lid from the ivory silk keepsake box and found inside a delicate white gold wedding tiara, covered in small hand-painted ceramic roses, dotted with tiny pearls and crystals. In spite of its detail, it was at the same time understated and exquisite.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed. While not one to have a specific fondness for jewellery and other such trinkets, she was certainly able to appreciate the fine quality and splendour of the piece in question. And, while she did her best to deny having a silly, girly, emotional side, she had to admit that wedding plans always broke through that force field. She turned it over and over in her hands, examining every angle with admiration of the way the light reflected in its crystals.

"Do you think Ginny would like it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"Do you think she would accept it?"

She paused. "That's a tougher question. How do you plan on presenting it to her?"

"Not in person, of course," he replied. "I'd send it via Hermes, along with a letter. I want to explain, and to apologize, and to wish her all the best. But I won't ask for anything. I can't."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Would you like me to read the letter after you've finished writing it?" She looked up at him, tearing her eyes off of the dazzling tiara for the first time since it was presented to her.

Percy's eyes were on the floor. "If you don't mind. I want to get this as right as possible. And I was hoping I could ask you…" He trailed off.

"What?" she prompted.

He finally made eye contact. "Could we somehow time things so that you, and only you, are there when she receives it? I'd really like her reaction gauged, and you're the only one who…" Again, he allowed his sentence to drift off.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure we can work something out. I'm seeing her tonight for Sunday dinner –"

Percy interrupted with a chuckle, designed to cover up what would have otherwise been a saddened sigh. "So they still all have Sunday night dinner together?"

She bit her lip, internally cursing her insensitivity. "Um, yes, they do. So it won't be a good time tonight, as there won't be any privacy. But I am seeing Ginny on Tuesday to look over bridal magazines with her, so that would work. Would you be ready to do this for Tuesday?"

Percy took a deep breath, as though steeling himself. "Yes," he affirmed. "I'm ready to write the letter right now. Do you mind waiting, just for a bit?"

"You already know what you want to write?" Hermione queried.

"I've known what I've wanted to say for years," he replied.

She paused. "Okay."

Hermione sat patiently and quietly for nearly half an hour while Percy hunched over a bit of parchment with a quill at the dining room table, adjacent to the living room. She wondered to herself for what seemed like the hundredth time if she was doing the right thing. There was still an inkling of doubt as to whether or not this was a betrayal to the Weasleys, or a waste or her time, or if it was just better not to get involved.

She looked over at Percy, seated at the table, and visibly hemming and hawing over precise wording. Had she let him back into her life too quickly? She had promised herself to keep her guard up, so she couldn't be put in a position to get hurt again, but she found herself going along with everything that he wanted. _'Not that he had requested anything too unreasonable,'_ she acknowledged to herself. Yet here she was, sitting in his flat, of all places, waiting tolerantly while he composed a letter. Why? And why did she already trust him?

As she mulled these things over in her head, Percy sighed deeply and put his quill down, pushing himself away from the table.

"Right," he said, somewhat nervous. "I think I'm done."

Startled out of her reverie, Hermione stood up with a bit of a jolt. "Oh! Well... would you like me to read it now?"

Percy nodded, and passed her the parchment.

It was now his turn to wait quietly while Hermione read the letter over. She went through it three times, finally looking up.

"Well?" he asked nervously.

Hermione nodded, eyes glistening just slightly, doubt erased from her mind. "Is this really how you feel?"

"Yes," Percy answered.

"Then it's perfect."

* * *

It seemed to Hermione as though Tuesday took ages to arrive, though it was only two days after her meeting with Percy. But it did finally come, and Hermione left work on time – usually she stayed late – to meet Ginny, as she had promised. Harry was working late, so the two girls had the night to themselves to look through magazines for ideas for the upcoming wedding. The floor was strewn with copies of _Your Magical Wedding_ and _Charming Brides_ and _Bride's Gown Revisited_.

Ginny was lying sprawled across the floor, while Hermione – still in her work clothes and not wishing to crease them unnecessarily – was seated on Ginny's bed.

Ginny thrust a magazine toward Hermione, with a page folded over.

"What do you think of this wedding dress?" Ginny asked. "Do you like the empire waist?"

Hermione pursed her lips as she examined the proffered picture. "I don't think so. Not for you. You have such a tiny waist that it might make you look as though you're… you know."

"What?"

"Trying to hide something?"

"What?"

"Like you're up the duff," Hermione finally spat out, exasperated.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, turning a deep crimson. "But I'm not!"

"Well, I know that, but it's possible that others might jump to some sort of a conclusion if they can't see your waistline."

"Got it. Empire waists are out," Ginny agreed.

They continued to mull over the magazines, until a scratch at the window – the one that Hermione had been expecting – interrupted them.

Ginny's eyes widened in confusion, and Hermione instantly remembered to play along, feigning ignorance.

"Is that an owl from Harry?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "I think… I think that's Hermes," she said, only a little unsure of her answer. "It's been a long time since I've seen him, but that's definitely Percy's owl." She turned to Hermione. "Why would Percy send me an owl?"

Though she hated hearing one of her best friends sound confused and distraught, she couldn't give up the act now.

"I don't know," she answered. "Should we let him in?"

"Oh, of course, I suppose we should," Ginny said, jumping up from the floor to open the window.

Hermes dropped the wrapped package and letter directly into Ginny's hands, and immediately flew back out of the open window.

Ginny held the package and the letter, and stared dumbfounded. Hermione gently touched her arm. "Do you want to read this on your own?" she asked her.

Ginny, startled out of her trancelike state, replied with some surprise, "Oh! No, please stay. I just need a minute. What do you think I should do, open the package first, or read the letter?"

"I always read letters first," Hermione answered truthfully, and was glad she was able to do so. She didn't want to feel as though she was manipulating her closest girlfriend any more than she already did.

Ginny sat back on her bed, and read the scroll of parchment in silence. Hermione tried not to stare, but she couldn't help focusing on Ginny's face, trying to gauge her reactions to the letter. It seemed as though Ginny had almost forgotten Hermione's presence, based on the intensity of her concentration. She eventually put down the letter, and looked up.

"Before I open the package, could… could you read this? I think I'd like your thoughts on all this," Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded. "Sure." She took the parchment from her friend's outstretched hand, and read it for the second time.

_Dear Ginny,_

_I am fully aware that no mere letter can even begin to make up for the way I behaved to you, Harry, and the rest of our family, but I still wish to start trying. _

_I'd like to start by telling you that I'm sorry. I'd like to put into words on this page exactly how remorseful I am, but I'm afraid the language simply isn't equipped for a decent description of the extent of my regret and sorrow. More than anything, I wish I had a Time Turner, so I could stop my younger self from destroying the most important thing in his life._

_I know that there is nothing that can excuse my past actions, and that asking for your forgiveness would be asking for more than I deserve._

_I hope that someday, when and if you are ready, that I can work on rebuilding our relationship, but in the meantime, I want to wish you only the greatest joy on your wedding day. Harry is a good man, and I know you will bring each other happiness, security, and comfort for many years to come._

_I would be truly honoured if you would accept the gift that I have included, though I shall understand entirely if you do not wish to do so. It belonged to someone very important to me, and now I would like to ensure that someone else very important to me has it._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Percy_

Hermione looked up from the parchment and at Ginny, who had opened the box and was staring at the delicate tiara nestled inside. Ginny's eyes were red and rimmed with tears. She carefully picked up the tiara and examined it from a number of angles.

"This must have been Penelope's," said Ginny quietly. "Never would have gotten to wear it. Did you know that she was killed around the end of the war?"

Knowing that she could again give a safe, truthful response, Hermione answered, "I only found out recently. It's shocking how many war victims we're still just finding out about."

"I knew," Ginny said simply. "I knew she and Percy were engaged. I saw her obituary in the Prophet when it happened, before you were working there, and I still didn't… I still didn't reach out to him! I sort of wanted to, but I just couldn't, and now he… he…" Her speech broke down as she began to cry.

Hermione hugged Ginny, cautiously circumventing the tiara she was holding. After a few moments, Ginny wiped her eyes and spoke up.

"Thank you," said Ginny. "You know I'm not normally like this, but I just feel like I've been Stunned. This is all so unexpected."

"Are you angry at him? Should he not have written you, or sent this to you?" Hermione probed gently.

Ginny shook her head. "Not that he wrote to me," said Ginny. "No, I'm not angry at him now. Maybe some of my brothers would want me to be angry still, but… I was angry for such a long time, and eventually, I just couldn't keep it going. It was too exhausting, and we had been shown how short a time we have, and, well, I missed him. He may have done some horrible, stupid things, but he was my brother and I wanted him back. I didn't know how to go about it, and given how everyone else might feel, I didn't know if I should. But this! This means that he has been thinking of me, too. That means a lot to me. What did you think? Did he sound sincere to you?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't think he'd have written it if he didn't mean it."

"Neither do I," Ginny agreed. "He may have done a lot of things wrong, but he wouldn't write something like that if he didn't mean it."

There was a brief silence before Ginny spoke again.

"Would you mind if we cut this evening short? I think that I'd like to write back to him. I don't know, maybe it's the wrong thing to do, but I'd like to give him the chance to work toward something. We could at least be on writing terms for a while. If he's trying to make amends with everyone, if he can actually do it, I'd really like it if the whole family was there on my wedding day. I won't send him an invitation yet, but I'll wait and see. I'll see how our letters go," finished Ginny.

"No problem, we can reschedule. Do you want to go shopping for your dress this weekend?" Hermione asked.

"That'd be great. Mum will be coming with us," said Ginny.

"Of course!" Hermione grinned.

"Oh! Speaking of Mum," Ginny continued. "Could you keep this just between us? I don't think that everyone else feels the same way that I do, so I'd like this to stay quiet, at least for now. If the wrong people found out, it could do more harm than good. I'm going to tell Harry, but he'll keep it a secret, too."

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed. The two girls stood up, and hugged goodbye. "I'll see you on the weekend, then?"

Ginny nodded, and picked up a quill as Hermione left her room. "Wish me luck!"

* * *

As soon as Hermione left the Burrow, she found she couldn't contain her excitement any longer. She knew that she had told Percy that she would send him an owl with an update on the evening's events, but she found herself unexpectedly gleeful at Ginny's positive response, and wanted to deliver the good news in person.

She Apparated as close as she could get to Muggle London, and ended up running the rest of the way to Percy's flat. When she finally arrived, and stopped to knock on his door, the adrenaline wore off and, badly in need of air, started gasping for breath.

When Percy answered the door, he was surprised to see a panting, dishevelled Hermione.

"What happened? Are you okay?" He let her in, putting aside his nerves about his letter to Ginny in favour of concern for Hermione's well-being. "Sit down! I'll get you some water."

Hermione ungracefully flopped down onto the sofa, as Percy ran into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Hermione was beginning to catch her breath when he returned, and was able to speak again after finishing her drink.

"Is everything all right?" Percy asked gently.

Hermione nodded, and smiled widely, now that she was able to breathe again. She stood up.

"I wanted to tell you myself," she said. "Ginny is going to start writing to you. She's wanted to talk to you for years, and she wants to give you the chance to rebuild things between the two of you."

The expression of Percy's face quickly changed from that of worry to elation.

"Really?" he asked, still nervous that Hermione's message was too good to be true.

When Hermione nodded again, he whooped with delight, and lifted Hermione from the floor in a tight hug, spinning her in a circle. Quickly regaining his composure, he put her down.

"I'm sorry for that," he apologized. "That was inappropriate of me."

"It's fine," Hermione said, still beaming. "She wants to take her time, you know, and let you do the same, but this is a great start."

"Of course, of course! Well, I promise, I won't bollocks this up again. I will quickly respond to any and every letter she sends. Thank you, thank you, thank you for helping me with this. I can't say it enough, but –"

"It's fine!" Hermione said again, quieting him. "It's wonderful. We'll meet again for lunch this Sunday, and you can let me know how things are going with you two. But right now, I'm pretty tired. Could I use your Floo? I don't fancy another jog at this time of night."

He grinned at her, and led her to the fireplace he magically installed in his living room. "Help yourself," he said, gesturing.

Hermione took some Floo powder and stepped toward it. Before she entered the fireplace, Percy approached her, and gave her another hug, slightly awkwardly this time. "I mean it. Thank you," he said.

She hugged back. "You're welcome."

After Hermione Flooed home, Percy went out for a walk, as he was too excited to sleep. He thought about Ginny and the rest of his family. He thought about how proud Penelope would be that he was trying hard to make amends with them. More than anything, though, he thought about Hermione, and lucky he was for her to have come back into his life.


End file.
